


Friendly Fire

by CarrieL



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, Angst, Chakotay in command, F/M, I hated Fifty Shades, Light BDSM, Shore Leave, la douleur exquise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieL/pseuds/CarrieL
Summary: I had yet to write the obligatory friendly fire J/C fic, so as a holiday gift and distraction, here it is, with the caveat that although everything is consensual, it's not pure vanilla. What can I say, I've been on lockdown for 9 months. At any rate ... on shore leave on Ablar II, Chakotay seizes the day.Final chapter now live - with alternate endings!
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 60
Kudos: 85





	1. Oh my ...

**Author's Note:**

> A little advent calendar of smut, one chapter a day until Christmas. Merry merry!

**Janeway**

It was a throw-away dinner invitation, tossed out just before Chakotay left the ready room to prepare for his three day wilderness vision quest on Ablar II, but she knew the instant it landed that he gave it more significance than she did. He paused before answering, as if weighing her intentions.

“That’s very kind,” he said. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding? You don’t get much solitude.”

It was true that the cabin retreat offered her by the Mergal High Command was a rare gift. The site, by now thoroughly vetted by Tuvok and his security team, was at the edge of the vast Qelan Nature Preserve where Chakotay intended to camp, kilometers from the nearest structure, isolated in perfect safety and serenity. As she completed tedious trade negotiations, Janeway had daydreamed for days about the well earned rest she hoped to enjoy - reading, hiking, birdwatching on a deck overlooking an uninhabited, wooded valley veiled in morning mist, while enjoying the pleasures of a well-equipped cabin with a bathtub. The mere thought drew a sigh that made Chakotay’s head tilt at an inquisitive angle. 

“Of course not,” she said. “It would be a pleasure to share a meal with no threat of a red alert. The least I can do is send you off to sleep on the ground with your belly full.”

He grinned. “I’ve never minded sleeping on the ground, but a good meal in good company is always welcome. Around six?”

“Sounds grand.” 

He retreated with a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there on the way in, making Janeway reflect briefly on what she’d said - nothing any different from her usual invitations for dinner in her quarters, except that this time they’d be planetside, in civvies, distanced from the chain of command in a way they’d been only a handful of times in nearly five years in the Delta quadrant, and quite alone at a jewel-like cabin in the woods. Until she saw his reaction, she hadn’t reflected on the unusual situation.

“Oh my,” she said absentmindedly, then returned her attention to the inventory of bartered items that would beam down to and up from the planet that afternoon in carefully monitored steps, culminating in authorization for shore leave for the remaining crew members who hadn’t yet had the opportunity. Voyager would be well supplied in critical items for months. It was enough to promise a good night’s sleep for once.

**Chakotay**

His mind filled with plans for a long-postponed vision quest, Chakotay was downright startled by Kathryn’s invitation to dine with her that evening on Ablar II. He’d expected not to see another bipedal soul from the moment he entered the nature preserve, but it was true that the cabin designated for the captain’s retreat was within a few kilometers of his intended departure point. It would be no major detour to spend the evening with her, and certainly no chore. Their warm candlelit dinners had kept him going through the most difficult passages in the Delta quadrant. He’d never say no if he could manage a yes. 

But this time, the circumstances were markedly different than on board Voyager. Was it his imagination or did Kathryn’s voice drop into a more honeyed register than usual as she said, “Would you like to join me for dinner at the cabin tonight before you take off on your wilderness adventure … Commander?” 

There was definitely a caressing note in the three syllables of Commander that made him wonder what she had in mind. The last time they’d spent time together alone and outside the command structure was on the little planet where they’d been quarantined, the one they’d christened New Earth. There, he was convinced, they’d been days - perhaps hours, if the dinner he’d planned for that night had achieved its desired aphrodisiac effect - from becoming lovers when Tuvok’s hail had interrupted the idyll.

Was she thinking of that too?

In his quarters, he packed with greater care than he might have taken had he expected only his own company, took a thorough sonic shower, shaved, and considered his meager civilian wardrobe. She’d seen all these clothes and none of them struck quite the note he wanted, somewhere on the well-groomed side of casual, but if he replicated something new, she’d know and it might make her uncomfortable. Tonight there must be no skittishness or nerves, just the ease of old friends in a new situation - one that could lead to a new understanding.

Yet he was nervous already. What was he hoping for? Did he earnestly believe that she was setting a seduction scene? That wasn’t Kathryn. She was as forthright as she was brave and nothing if not a stickler for upholding Starfleet protocol. If she’d decided to change fraternization protocols, she’d write a memo about it and copy the senior staff. No, this was exactly what it appeared to be - another of their friendly dinners. If he behaved differently, it could ruin their easy camaraderie, which he valued above any other relationship aboard Voyager. As much as he might want to hazard a longer touch, a brushing kiss, to see how she’d respond - he couldn’t take the risk. He shook off the fantasizing and headed back to his duty post to double check the crew assignments during his and Janeway’s shore leave.


	2. Whatever propels your starship

**Janeway**

She’d reviewed the specs and received the security report, of course, but the beam-in to the cabin’s expansive deck was more breathtaking than she could have anticipated. Late afternoon lit the long valley in golden light and sparkling Ablaran butterflies played in wildflowers descending the hillside to the forest where the river lay, cool and secret among flowered shrubs and fluttering trees reminiscent of aspens. She was glad she’d abandoned her uniform in her quarters. It was worth the raised eyebrows and smiles on her way to the transporter room to arrive here in her dress and sandals, her holiday already begun.

While packing, with the ship’s energy levels topped off by the successful trading round, she indulged in a few new replicated items - civilian hiking shoes and a pair of shorts for days that promised to be pleasantly hot. When she reviewed her clothes from New Earth, she was struck by how modest they were, nothing above the knee, no loose necklines, and for dips in the river a practically Victorian bathing suit rather than the bikini she normally preferred. She’d even substituted a conservative nightgown and drawstring trousers for the silk slip she liked to sleep in on board and the matching robe Q had once caught her in. 

She’d taken care that Chakotay saw as little of her skin as possible, a thought that made a blush creep up her neck. What had she been afraid of? Did she think he’d find her so irresistible that lust would alter his personality and he’d attack her? That was ridiculous. No, it was her own body she’d been afraid of - how he’d look at her and the involuntary way she’d respond - dilated pupils, faster respiration, spreading blushes, erect nipples, signs he’d see through the silk, even if the wetness between her legs when he came too close remained her secret. She’d been afraid of wanting him and showing it in an undeniable way that would draw them together against her better judgment, so she’d hidden behind a wall of fabric. It seemed juvenile in retrospect, so she’d made a few adjustments. Nothing outrageous, just enough to remind herself that she was an adult, capable of consenting or not and holding firm.

Janeway stepped to the deck rail and sighed into drenching sunlight. She was older now, more secure in her captaincy and in Chakotay’s loyalty. She no longer believed that he might use an intimate relationship to control her. She knew him better, but the constraints of protocol hadn’t changed. He remained her direct subordinate. She’d heard stories of couples with “friendly fire” relationships conducted strictly off duty and off their assigned vessels, but even if she had the nerve to suggest it, how realistic was it to think that they could return to their previous professional relationship after they’d - what? 

She could hardly think the words, let alone conjure images she’d forbidden so strictly. After they’d kissed. Held each other. Undressed. Made love. After he’d been inside her. After they’d slept in each other’s arms and awakened together, whispering the endearments they’d held back for so long. After that, they’d just beam up for an “Aye aye, Captain, set a course” when they stepped onto the bridge? Simply carry on as before with no idea how long they’d have to wait for another opportunity like this? That would be the hardest part, igniting a fire then banking it indefinitely - because it would be a fire, she had no doubt. Just thinking about it made her temperature rise, and she’d seen his reaction at the mere mention of a planetside dinner. 

A starship captain had no business playing with fire.

With a dismissive grunt, Kathryn hitched her satchel higher on her shoulder and marched inside to take the measure of the kitchen, hungry as she hadn’t been in months.

**Chakotay**

The transporter deposited him at a location scouted by Tuvok’s security detail, where a wooded valley stretched into misty distance without a soul in sight. The view was soothing and homelike to eyes accustomed to the void of space. Chakotay spun slowly a few times to take in his surroundings and get his bearings before spotting the cabin at the end of a winding path through the trees, lit golden against early twilight, but still plenty of daylight to walk by. He adjusted his pack and headed over, wondering if he’d encounter a businesslike Starfleet captain eager to review Voyager’s much improved operational status - or Kathryn the monkey whisperer with a hidden talent for gardening.

The front door was open when he stepped onto the porch, soft music playing a lilting, syncopated beat. The planet offered little insect life so far and they’d received assurances from the government that there were no dangerous animals in this sector, but still, he wondered at how much she’d let down her guard. Were they really as safe here as everyone promised? Maybe he should stay nearby, camped within screaming distance but out of sight, just in case. He smiled at himself and shook his head. The habit of protecting her had gotten so strong that it was difficult to cast off, even for a few days. Tuvok was on duty. Scans were active. She was safe.

Chakotay leaned his pack against the front wall and looked inside, where Kathryn stood at the kitchen counter decanting wine into a carafe, barefoot in a blue dress he recognized, except that it was shorter than he remembered, above the knee, with a scooped back that exposed her slim shoulder blades. Her hair too was shorter than it had been the last time they’d been alone like this, not quite the only two on the planet this time, but close enough. Without her captain’s boots and boxy-shouldered uniform she was smaller, almost girlish. Chakotay felt a flutter he’d suppressed for a long time and cleared his throat.

“Mustn’t lurk in doorways,” she drawled without looking his way. She picked up the carafe and turned to him with a grin. “People will think you’re up to something.”

His answering grin was automatic. He was too pleased to see her like this to play it cool. “Who says I’m not?” 

“Thanks for coming,” she said, walking up to brush his cheek with a featherweight kiss, gone before he knew she was going to do it. She picked up utensils and tossed the salad, completely at ease, as if she had no idea what she’d just done to his pulse. His fingers touched the spot of their own accord. “I know you’re eager to be off on your trek but we haven’t had dinner in weeks what with all the maneuvers and negotiations. I thought it would be good to catch up.”

That sounded captainish enough to calm him.

“It is good,” he said, stepping inside and slipping off his shoes as she’d done. “I’ve been wanting to hear exactly what that Nabian science minister whispered that made you spit out your water.”

“Oh, that.” She laughed as she set the carafe, dishes, and two wine glasses on a tray. “He was telling me that the Nabian gestation period is three years. Can you imagine?”

“I can’t imagine nine months, so - no.”

She handed him the tray and picked up the two serving bowls. “I thought we’d eat out on the deck. The weather is perfect and the view is incredible.”

He followed her outside, admiring the sway of her hips and the unaccustomed length of bare leg below her hem. What had she done to that dress? He couldn’t take his eyes off it - or the way it snugged against her backside. He forced himself to focus on keeping the tray steady in case she looked around and caught him leering. The table was ready with candles and flowers, nothing she hadn’t done for one of their on-board dinners but different, more suggestive, in this setting. He felt disoriented, a tracker unsure how to read signs. Kathryn poured the wine and lifted a glass to him.

“Here’s to putting our feet up - or going on a survivalist trek through unmarked wilderness. Whatever propels your starship.”

“To whatever propels _your_ starship, Captain,” he said, and immediately felt that this was more innuendo than he’d intended.

A shadow crossed her face. “Not Captain. Not here. Here we’re free of rank, duty, hierarchy, uniforms - and dinner is a new and improved veggie biryani. I used some local ingredients and it doesn’t have that metallic taste it did last time.” 

Her expression was hopeful, almost vulnerable. Chakotay was reminded for the first time in many months that they’d been total strangers thrown together in a survival situation when their ships arrived in the Delta quadrant. He’d had only a handful of conversations with her that weren’t work-oriented in some way. He’d never met her family, friends - or former fiancé. After spending so much time together it was easy to think that they knew each other comprehensively, but there must be a great deal that he didn’t know. 

“This is gorgeous,” he said, gesturing to the table. “When did you have time to do all this?” He knew she’d arrived less than an hour before he had because he’d urged her all day not to waste her precious leave with tasks that could easily be done by others. By the time he’d noted her transport, he barely had time to get his backpacking gear together before his scheduled beam-down.

She ducked her head, then raised dancing eyes. “I have a confession,” she said. “I had it catered.”

He raised his glass again. “Excellent delegation skills,” he said, admiring the curve of her neck into her shoulder and the more revealing sweep of her front neckline as she threw back her head and laughed more freely than he’d seen in ... maybe ever. Something had gotten into her that unsettled him. He’d come to rely on their understanding, he realized. If she intended to upset it, he wasn’t sure how to react.


	3. We've been here before

**Janeway**

When Chakotay stepped in the door unable to take his eyes off the modified - and reduced - blue dress, Janeway had to turn away quickly and toss the salad to hide the blush she knew was creeping up her neck. She’d meant the dress as a statement about freedom and the maturity of their professional relationship, but he didn’t know that. She’d seen that look on him before and learned to redirect it before it caused trouble. She started handing him things to carry that would require his full attention, then made the mistake of walking in front of him to the deck, her bottom burning with the force of his gaze.

Then his reply to her toast, “whatever propels _your_ starship” indeed! She needed to dial things down several notches, and a good meal was just the thing. She put her diplomatic skills to work, getting him talking about happy memories, taking them out of the moment until they were relaxed and fully at ease again.

At the end of one of the best meals either of them had eaten in five years, Chakotay leaned back in satisfaction. He was a few feet to her left, both of them oriented to watch the effect of the last light turning the valley a deep blue-green. They’d talked of childhood experiences with nature - walks in the woods, learning to swim and sail, the kinds of birds and insects they remembered, the family members who’d introduced them to new species of flora and fauna, and how precious those memories were. Earth seemed both close and very far away.

“Would you consider settling here?” he asked, then chuckled when she looked askance at him.

“Very funny,” she said. “I’m not sure I could endure the ritual calisthenics. I’m still sore from the ball tossing game with the first minister. What do you think that thing weighed?” She put a hand to her shoulder and massaged.

“I’d guess a good thirty kilos. It nearly knocked me over the first time I caught it. I wasn’t expecting a boulder!”

As they laughed he rose to stand behind her and hover his hands above her shoulders. “May I?” he asked.

He’d moved so naturally that it didn’t occur to her to protest until he was behind her, awaiting her reply. They’d been here before. How could she forget the night he’d stood in exactly the same position on New Earth, gathered her hair and set it on one shoulder, put gentle hands on her sore muscles, how good it had felt - and how he’d stopped when suddenly they both knew it was more than a platonic neck massage?

He was asking, and she needed to say something.

“Oh, would you? I’m planning on a hot bath later to work out the knots.” 

He put his fingers on the sides of her neck, against the back of her jaw, moved to her temples, around to the base of her skull, then down the cords on either side of her spine, soothing, releasing pain and tension so that she exhaled long with relief. Surely, she thought, it was an accident that tonight evoked so many memories. Normally she went to lengths to avoid sentimental moments when Chakotay was around, because it was dangerous to allow strong emotions to develop for someone who she worked with so closely. But couldn’t this be harmless? The Doctor gave her regular massages without any sense on either side that it was inappropriate. _The Doctor_ , a small voice in the corner of her mind reminded, _is a hologram, and Chakotay is a living, breathing human male … very male._

His thumbs smoothed her shoulder blades and his fingers rode the ridge of her collarbones, dipping low to follow her new neckline, which exposed the tops of her breasts. The feeling was stimulating and unsettling, but she knew how this scene ended. In a few more seconds he’d stop as he had on another night, on another planet. She’d say she was tired. He’d thank her for dinner. He’d leave. That would be that. 

But whatever signal she’d given or hesitancy in him that had made him stop on New Earth wasn’t operating. His fingers delicately kneaded her upper chest to just short of her nipples, which stood at attention under the taut dress just as she’d feared they would. He began to work on her upper arms, squeezing her shoulders together and releasing. The treacherous symptoms of her arousal were growing. She had to do something.

“We’ve been here before,” she said, to remind him.

“Yes.” He went back to her neck, up into her hair, then his hand slid under the wider neckline she’d demanded from the replicator and moved it toward her left shoulder where if she wasn’t careful it would drop right off. She might melt into a puddle of relaxation were it not for the sexual tension sizzling between them. 

“What do you want, Kathryn?” he asked in a husky voice, fingers at her collarbones.

She shifted, made uncomfortable by the tightness in her groin. There was a command decision to make here and she was fully prepared for that. There was precedent for this situation and their working relationship was mature enough, she judged, to handle the fallout, as long as clear parameters were maintained. If it was playing with fire, well, she’d played with worse. She tilted her head to brush her cheek against his hand, soft as a butterfly’s wing, her words low but as clear as her sharpest order.

“Friendly fire. Purely physical. Off Voyager and off duty only. Otherwise strictly professional. Back on board, it never happened. And purely voluntary - not to keep the captain on an even keel or anything like that. Just because you want to. If you want to. Can you handle that, Chakotay?” She meant to look up into his eyes at this point, to gauge his reaction, but once the words were out she felt suddenly shy and looked down, nervous as a schoolgirl with her first real boyfriend.

**Chakotay**

He wasn’t going to stop until she told him to. Not this time. There was nothing between his hands and her skin, nothing to hide the pounding of the pulse in her neck or the pink spreading across the tops of her breasts as he let his fingers wander to the point where by simply extending them he could, if he were that bold and out of his mind, reach under the dress to grasp her breasts in his palms. There were no telltale bra straps. She was bare underneath, nipples straining at the fabric. He wondered if she could hear him swallow to control saliva filling his mouth in reaction to the most appetizing thing he’d ever seen.

When he looked, he could see straight down her dress - a dress plainly modified to expand the view of his captain’s physical assets. It fell just above her bare knees. She’d uncrossed her legs to settle in for the massage and now sat with her knees apart, the dress a thin sheath over her belly, pubic ridge, and legs. If she was allowing herself to do all this - invite him to a planetside candlelit dinner at an isolated cabin, wear that dress, and sit here unprotesting while he ran his hands over her warm, exposed skin - he was going to respond like a normal man, not a Starfleet eunuch, and nudge things as far as he could get away with.

Still, her words froze him in shock, just as he’d once frozen on New Earth to control his body’s response to her. _Friendly fire._ Not a relationship, not what he truly wanted with her, just sex, in unpredictable, stolen planetside moments that might stretch out at distant intervals over many years and drive him certifiably insane with longing while foreclosing the possibility of a relationship with anyone else.

He withdrew his hands from her shoulders. _Could he handle that?_ It was a hundred times more than he’d dared hope for even fifteen minutes ago, yet less than he needed. He considered negotiating for more, but he knew her well enough to be fairly sure that what she’d offered wasn’t an opening gambit, it was all she felt she could give. She would have weighed the offer carefully, played out the chess game in her mind. He could take it - or never get this close to her for the rest of the journey. She was waiting, tensing again, nervous, he realized as he considered what to say, about his response. Seconds ticked by as he argued with himself, tried to force out an acquiescence to something that would soon become a form of torture. No words would come. 

Abruptly, she rose to stand at the rail, facing the growing darkness.


	4. Ask me what I want

**Janeway**

As she waited for Chakotay’s reply, his hands newly heavy on her shoulders, a knot of horror formed in her gut and began to grow. She’d misjudged him. She’d missed the signs that he’d moved on, or that his interest in her had never been the kind she thought it was. Here he was doing his duty, supporting his captain, postponing his vision quest to be her companion and sounding board and perhaps reluctant masseur, helping her relax in the same matter-of-fact way the doctor did, and she’d put on a flirty dress and propositioned him like a lewd Captain Kirk caricature. 

Just when she was about to make a joke of it, apologize, and let him off the hook, he took his hands off her. The depth of her mortification became a red tide expanding from her middle outward. Suddenly, she couldn’t put distance between them fast enough. She jumped up and hurried several steps to the deck rail, unable to face him. She tugged at the dress where it had slid from her shoulder, covering herself.

“How absurdly presumptuous of me,” she said. “Please forget I said anything. I hope your trek rejuvenates you. I’ll see you back on board. _Dismissed._ ” She waved him off then stood like a statue, as she had before the viewport in her ready room a thousand times, waiting - now fervently wishing - for him to leave. She would have rushed into the cabin and shut the door, but that would let him see her bright red face. 

Soft footsteps approached. This was going to be excruciating. He’d be kind and understanding as he let her down oh-so-gently, and the temptation would be enormous to throw herself off the deck to escape the humiliation. At least he wasn’t the sort to tell tales on board of how the frustrated, horny captain had thrown herself at him. She could save that devastating image for her nightmares. Behind her, Chakotay cleared his throat as she eyed the dark outlines of shrubs below, evaluating their ability to cushion her fall.

**Chakotay**

He put his hands behind his back before he crossed to her, for safety. He needed her to hear him, really hear him, and it was imperative not to touch her if she wouldn’t accept his terms. 

“I have some parameters of my own,” he said. 

Her head tilted and she backed away enough to face him, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders hunched so that the front of her dress was no longer tight across her breasts. Deep pink spots burned on her cheeks, visible even in the low light. “Parameters? Such as?”

“Such as, it’s not just sex to me. I don’t want to pretend that it is. Maybe I’m just scratching your itch, but I don’t think so. This isn’t some … some Risa fling with a Dabo girl. I’m in love with you, Kathryn. I think you know that. Don’t ask me to role play something else. It hurts.” 

He was agitated, afraid she’d call off the whole thing at his objection, and he had to object. He forgot to control his hands, pointing and gesturing to emphasize each word. All she’d have to do was step into his arms and he’d be at her mercy. She must know it. He was on the verge of tears to think that the abiding promise of their relationship might end this way, with him turning her down … and her never forgiving him.

Kathryn broke their challenging eye contact, looking down as if embarrassed. Maybe he was just scratching an itch for her, he thought. She’d never told him how she felt. He’d only hoped. But now she knew how he felt. He couldn’t take it back. No matter what happened next, their friendship was forever changed. Why did she have to do this? He began to feel an edge of anger that she’d toy so callously with their fragile, precious understanding.

She raised her eyes, chastened. “The last thing I intended was to hurt you,” she said. “I thought - this is what we can have. It’s not much. Maybe it’s not better than nothing. Maybe it’s worse.”

He stood with his hands on his hips, gutted, waiting for her to say something to reassure him, to tell him that she loved him too even if they couldn’t be together aboard Voyager - but she didn’t. She only watched him with an apologetic look, beautiful lit only by the candlelight on the table. Most of him wanted to close the space between them and take full advantage of her offer without further discussion - but he couldn’t. Something in him wouldn’t give. He rubbed his neck, mightily annoyed with himself. 

Would it be so bad, old man, to have meaningless sex with Kathryn Janeway?

“I asked what you want, Kathryn,” he said, remembering their words, how plainly she’d laid out her indecent proposal, all business, expecting him to leap at it - and her. 

She nodded, watching him with doubt in her eyes. “I told you. Friendly fire.”

“Ask me what I want,” he said.

She swayed and hesitated several seconds before saying, “What do you want?”

He was glad that the night mostly hid his face. “I want ... to explore every inch of you with my tongue, starting at the top of your head, missing nothing, for as many hours as we have.”

All thoughts of his trek fled his mind as Kathryn dropped her head to the side, exposing the full length of her neck, and shrugged so that the dress slouched off her shoulder to expose most of one flawless breast and a hard nipple. The tone of her voice made him break out in a sweat despite the cool evening. “What’s stopping you?” 

With all the willpower he could muster, jaw clenched, he stayed where he was. “Tell me you love me,” he said, not loudly, but in his most commanding voice.

“Chakotay - ” She took a step toward him. He took a step back.

“Tell me, or I’m leaving.”


	5. The promise of pleasure to come

**Janeway**

This new, demanding Chakotay who gave ultimatums and resisted her overt attempt at seduction was a complete - and welcome - surprise. When he said ‘Tell me you love me,’ she thought she’d sidle up and silence him with a kiss to curl his toes, but he wouldn’t let her. It was like having the original hardened Maquis captain before her, negotiating with a dark glint in his eye for his crew’s status aboard Voyager. As it had in those tumultuous early days together, this forceful side turned her on ferociously. 

Then, to her astonishment and exasperation, he threatened to leave and deny her the release she was already aching for. She fought an internal battle. If she deflected now, refusing what he needed, it would be the end of their long flirtation. He’d move on, here and back on Voyager. Could she make it through the years of travel ahead without the sweet comfort of his constant, smitten attention? Wasn’t it worth a little whispered acknowledgment, conveniently forgotten later? Her right hand bunched the fabric of her dress, held hard for a few seconds, then let loose. 

“You know I love you,” she said, so low it was almost a thought made audible. 

It was done. Now he’d touch her, take her, do everything she longed for him to do - but he didn’t move. Instead, his eyes fell to her bare breast.

“Take off your clothes,” he said. 

She gasped. He’d never given her an order, but this had all the signs of one - a naughty, wholly inappropriate order like she'd never dreamed of giving ... or receiving. It was so taboo that it intrigued her - no, riveted her like electrical current to her most private parts, prepared for the touch of a tender, tentative lover exploring her for the first time. This was something quite different. He’d squared up to full height and loomed over her, asserting his size and strength over her slight, half-naked frame. Of course he’d never force her to do anything, but the idea of willingly complying was … titillating. Her toes clenched on the smooth decking. 

Not because she had any reason to obey, she told herself, but because his order excited her, she pushed the dress off her other shoulder and shimmied it to her waist. She paused there, awaiting the reaction sure to come. Any second he’d push her against the rail, press his hot kiss to her lips - but still he waited. 

It was incredible that he hadn’t touched her yet. She’d been sure that the moment her dress began to fall, he’d be on her like a targ in heat to satisfy the unbearable ache that had mounted between her legs at his outrageous command. When he only stood there, watching with a shadowed face, she was a little disappointed, but that only lasted for a few seconds before her entire nervous system caught fire. The promise of pleasure to come but withheld was even more exciting than immediate gratification.

What was he waiting for? What did he plan to do? She wanted more than anything to find out. Her angry warrior was back. What would it take to draw him to her? She wasn’t fully undressed, so she made a show of uncovering what little was left, rocking her hips, teasing him a little, thrusting her chest forward, licking her lips as her body responded to the richly erotic experience of stripping for him while he waited, taking it all in. 

He shifted as if compensating for his own arousal, but made no move toward her. As much to soothe her nerves as to entice him, she ran her fingers over her breasts, down her belly to her bare thighs.

“It’s getting a little cold out here,” she said, breathless with growing impatience. 

**Chakotay**

He wanted to yank her against him the instant the words _I love you_ passed her lips - and of course that was what she expected, standing there with one breast bared like classical statuary come to life … but the sudden sense of power over her was intoxicating. After all these years as her second in command, wondering if she really would have served under him, gathering rare crumbs of affection at her table, he had her in a position he’d only dreamed of. She wanted him enough to do what he said, to confess her love. The tactician in him couldn’t help but consider how to consolidate his advantage.

Since she’d already started, he ordered her to undress, to test the extent of her obedience - and was floored when she did. His heart rate doubled in the seconds her dress took to hit the floor, he was sure of it. When she bent to drop black silk underpants on top of the dress, then straightened, bared to the night, and tossed her head back like the goddess she was, he nearly surrendered. 

He was lightheaded and reckless, holding onto his resolve by a thread. The only thing that kept him from her was curiosity - tinged with raw lust - at what further delicious concessions he might extract if he held his ground. 

“Touch your nipples,” he said with a growl.

“Don’t you want to do that?” she asked, cupping her hands under her breasts to offer them.

“Touch your nipples,” he said, putting the sharp edge of an order into his voice. “ _Now._ ”

She gave him a saucy look like they were playing a game and began to massage her areolae, circling, licking her fingers, so that her nipples were hard and surely extremely sensitive by the time she finally pinched them. She gasped, bit her lip, and snaked a hand toward her pelvis. He could see on her face how eager she was to plunge her fingers between her legs and pleasure herself in front of him. He must deny her what she wanted. 

“No,” he said, such a clear command that her hand stopped on her belly. “Don’t touch down there. Not yet.”

She shivered and goosebumps rose on her arms as she waited, poised for further instructions, one hand still on her nipple and the other just touching her pubic hair, blue eyes searching his, full of questions. What was he waiting for, he asked himself? What would excite her while consolidating his control?

He was playing wholly by instinct, and as much as he wanted to watch her do to herself what she was plainly ready to do, or step up to do it himself, he sensed that it was vital in this moment to impose his will. She needed his parameters, the rules she must obey if they were to carry this game further. Winning their game - whatever that might mean - was suddenly critically important. It would decide their entire future together.

“Answer ‘Yes, Chakotay,’” he said. “Whenever I ask a question or give a command and you say ‘Yes, Chakotay,’ - and _only_ ‘Yes, Chakotay,’ there will be a little reward. Understood?”

It was worth a try, even if he didn’t know yet what the reward would be. He’d begun with only the idea of teasing her a little and gotten far more than he bargained for. Kathryn was so much in the habit - and drudgery - of command that switching roles was bound to frustrate and excite her. He also had a suspicion, grown stronger over the years, that she’d held him at arm’s length for so long because he’d allowed himself to become subordinate both in their command roles and in private hours together. To change that, he must turn the tables and take her firmly in hand.

Keeping himself in hand was the challenge now. When she gave in so easily to his order to take off her clothes, he was instantly, painfully erect - grateful for the cover of night. As much as he wanted her, he was fascinated by her willingness to explore the sexuality she kept under strict lockdown. The possibilities were endless. If he was going to dominate her, he couldn’t behave like an inexperienced boy and ejaculate before he’d even undressed - or made her undress him.

To his amazement and delight, after a moment’s consideration she tilted her head and said “Yes, Chakotay,” in the most seductive tone he’d ever heard from her. _Chalk one up for Captain Chakotay,_ he thought. Steeling himself, he bent to place a chaste kiss on her collarbone, then pulled away quickly with a little smile at the way she braced a hand on the rail to support her weakened knees. 

He struggled to control his breath. Watching her massage her breasts had almost broken his control and even the quick contact of his lips to her skin made it difficult to walk. He needed something that would excite her but allow him to stay detached. The red candles on the table drew his gaze, so he picked up one of the tapers and came to her, holding the flame between them. Her skin glowed in the golden light.

He let a drop of red wax fall on his wrist.


	6. Don't fear your sexuality

**Janeway**

The flame was close enough that she could feel its heat. Although she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, her arm stretched protectively across her breasts.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, dark eyes illuminated, reminding her that after all, it was him, Chakotay, her best friend, her love.

“Yes, Chakotay.” He nodded and placed a kiss on the delicate skin below her right ear with as much deliberation as he’d kissed her collarbone. She trembled at his touch and heard his breath grow faster before he pulled away and mastered himself.

“Good. Now I’m going to mark you as mine. Hands behind your head.”

One hand at a time, she obeyed, and spread her elbows wide so that her breasts lifted toward him. Then she remembered. “Yes, Chakotay.”

“Very good.” He kissed the notch at the base of her throat. The muscles in her abdomen tightened, then released, drawing his gaze. Her skin was intensely alive to the evening breeze, the candle flame, and the warmth pouring off Chakotay’s body. It was costing him to keep his distance, she could tell.

He tilted the candle above her right breast, dripping hot wax that traced red down her chest. The heat was intense but the wax didn’t burn as it hit her skin, rolled down, and cooled enough to leave a trail like that of a teardrop - or the lines of his tattoo. She hissed but didn’t cry out. The forbidden sensation stirred something deep in her, parts that had slept, awaiting his touch, now awakening with a wild appetite at his stealthy, tactical approach. 

He moved the candle to drop another streak of molten wax down her breast, another, and another, watching the expression on her face and the subtle responses of her skin with rapt attention. He connected the lines with a horizontal pass across the tops of her breasts. A few drops fell to decorate her pubis. One hit her bare toe. She looked down. He was marking her, just as he’d said, creating a distinct pattern, leaving wavy lines on her breasts like she was his art project, his canvas. _His._

He was so close he could have touched her anywhere but held back. Every nerve ending in her body was at red alert. She bit her lip and moaned, tilting her head back, lips parted, inviting a kiss that didn’t come, swiftly losing her will to remain passive. She craned her neck to brush her lips along his jaw, but he shifted out of reach. 

“All in good time. And for good behavior,” he said.

“Yes, Chakotay,” she said, hoping to feel his lips again.

He tsked. “An order or a question, remember?” He stepped back to admire his handiwork on her body.

She was very aware of being completely exposed to the night, under his control, however voluntary her submission. She could have launched herself at him, but his commanding manner held her tensed in fraught anticipation. Her face twitched as the wax hardened, tugging a little at sensitive flesh. Her arousal was moving like waves moving through her body, carrying away reason and restraint. Was it possible to climax only from hot wax, she wondered? When would she get to see him naked? She shut her eyes and squeezed her thighs together to calm the throbbing between her legs. 

“No,” he said. “Legs apart. Like this.” He demonstrated a wide stance.

“Yes, Chakotay,” she said and imitated him, spreading her labia so that cool air touched her moisture like a bold caress. 

“Very good. You may lower your hands.” He circled her, examining her from every angle, to place a kiss at the base of her spine. She was so hungry for his touch that it radiated through her pelvis. She gave a little cry and somewhere in the dark forest, a bird answered. Her clitoris, normally a quietly well behaved part of her body, had developed a pulse of its own, demanding attention. She was so wet she thought she might drip on the decking. She panted and her fists clenched. This was growing intolerable.

“Ask me what I want,” she whispered, turning her head to see what he was up to behind her.

He returned to face her with a wicked grin. “It’s my turn.”

**Chakotay**

He could tell what she wanted - efficiency, a quick end to the torment, on her terms. She was used to calling the shots, but not tonight. He would teach her patience, make her writhe until he had exactly what he wanted, and she’d enjoy every minute of it.

“It’s my turn,” he said. “Go inside, turn on the fireplace, and lie down on the rug. I need to take care of something.”

She grinned back, a little challenge, still playing along. “Can I touch myself?” Her fingers returned to her pubic hair.

His reply was firm and terse. “No. Hands holding your knees spread open. I’ll know if you’ve disobeyed.”

“Yes, Chakotay,” she said with a little gulp. She took a few steps toward the cabin then paused for her reward. He knew he’d be a few minutes, so to keep her feverish as she was now, he took her lower lip between his, sucked it for a second, then opened his mouth and tasted her tongue. Her moan forced him to break away before he threw her down on the deck. She sashayed into the cabin, hips swinging dangerously.

When the door had shut, Chakotay let out his breath with a soft groan and unfastened his waistband to relieve the pressure on his penis, pinned underneath. He was so hard it was difficult to move as he shuffled to the dark nook at the far end of the deck where a few spare chairs were stowed, opened his fly, and rubbed himself to climax, grunting against the railing while running through his mind the incredible scene he’d just witnessed. 

He swallowed a hoarse cry as he spurted over into the ravine, a white stream against black forest. He leaned against the wall, gasping for air, sweating through his shirt, working to focus his mind with the thought of how long he’d be able to tantalize Kathryn now without giving in to the obscene temptation of her open, pliant body. Gradually, he regained control. After a few minutes he was composed enough to tidy himself and go looking for his pack.

Squatting in the light from a front window onto the narrow porch, he took out his medicine bundle and hastily summoned his spirit guide. When the doe appeared, she looked amused.

“What need do you have of me?” she asked, as if well aware of the urgent business at hand. 

“I need to know, am I doing the right thing, playing with her this way - or having sex with her at all? My relationship with Kathryn is the most important thing in my life, in many ways. I can’t afford to ruin it.”

From the forest behind the doe, a buck appeared. The doe let him chase her playfully around the clearing before letting him mount her. As they mated, the buck straining, the doe braced, she looked up at Chakotay with eyes like Kathryn’s, filled with satisfaction.

“The spirit world is powerfully sensual,” she said. “Don’t fear your sexuality … or hers.” Their brief joining concluded, buck and doe ran off in different directions, the vision ended, and Chakotay was left alone, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time - and confident about bending Kathryn to his will.


	7. Don't overthink it, Kathryn

**Janeway**

Her fingers traced her lips, tingling from his kiss. Stepping into the cabin, unlit but still warm from the day, was like re-entering the world she’d left behind while out there in the night with Chakotay, unmoored from normal time. She went to the fireplace, which started with the click of a button, casting light on skin he’d decorated. She knelt in front of the glass firescreen and saw herself reflected as a creature she hardly recognized.

Her hair was disheveled, her torso scrawled with wax hieroglyphs, and her sex a shadowed cave. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was watching from the deck, but he’d disappeared. Besides, the sofa would block his view of all but her head. She looked back at the glass and touched a waxy nipple, then let her finger dip into the shadow between her legs - like testing a well of warm honey. She was ready for him all right, but he was up to something, a power shift she might be unwise to allow.

_Don’t overthink it, Kathryn,_ she told herself. She’d made up her mind to have sex with him and even made the enormous concession of confessing her feelings. She was going to get laid tonight. It had been too damn long.

With a smile, she arranged cushions on the rug and lay down, hair spilling around her, nipples erect and pointed at the ceiling. She bent her knees and used her hands to open them wide, obeying his directions with a little tremor of excitement. Actually holding her knees was a little strained, so she let her legs drop apart and stroked her inner thighs, going as far as massaging her labia - enjoyable but not overwhelming. It felt daring to lie opened this way in a strange room on a strange planet, luxuriating in the rare thrill of waiting for a dominant lover to have his way with her. 

Would he penetrate her with his fingers first, to loosen her after what he had to realize was a long sexual drought? He might suspect that she’d enjoyed that physically enhanced Irish hologram a little more intimately than she’d care to admit, but of course it wasn’t the same as flesh and blood. Or would he turn the tables and have her watch him, touch him … oh, she’d like that. She loved to watch him, especially when he didn’t know she was looking. 

Would he sit on the sofa and order her to kneel and wrap her mouth around what she felt sure would be one of the galaxy’s most perfect male members, hold her head to him, strain and thrust and explode into her mouth? Fellatio wasn’t usually her favorite thing but she wanted very much to do it to him. She wanted him to order her to do it to him. And she badly wanted his mouth on her. She wished he’d hurry.

She expected him to be only a minute behind her after clearing the table, putting out the candles, undressing, whatever he was up to, but minutes ticked by and she began to feel silly, lying there as he’d told her, like a museum exhibit titled Wanton Woman. She shut her eyes and imagined how it would feel when he knelt, naked, between her legs, saw how ready she was, and without further preliminaries pushed his way into her. 

Then she opened her eyes and thought of her crew - what any of them would say or think if they could see her now. If Tuvok could see her now.

What had possessed her to suggest all this? Friendly fire, indeed. And his response, ordering her to take her clothes off. To touch herself. To take explicit, sexual orders from him in exchange for kisses. Had they both ingested some kind of hallucinogenic indigenous Ablaran plant that robbed them of all sense of propriety and made them forget protocol engrained by years of training? It was all so far outside what she’d anticipated from sweet, reliable Chakotay - and from her own self-discipline, if she was honest - that the recollection of what they’d just done aroused her all over again.

Kathryn stretched and twisted, needing relief, growing annoyed. The wax stripes tugged a little so she sat up and rubbed them off, rolling bits of wax into little balls and lining them up on the hearth. She’d just gotten to her feet when the front door swung open and Chakotay entered, carrying a feather and a rope. 

**Chakotay**

He took a feather from his medicine bundle and a length of soft rope from his climbing gear - more to see the look on Kathryn’s face than because he knew yet what to do with it - and stuffed a few small items in his pockets. He’d taken too long. He half expected that she’d have put on a robe and replicated a cup of coffee by now. She’d be sitting beside the fire with a mocking expression on her face, ready with a quip about his deviant preferences. Rather than exploring their sensual spirits together, she’d have changed her mind about the whole thing and would send him off to sleep in the forest, comprehensively blueballed. He prepared himself for it as he opened the door.

The sight of her standing naked before the fire made him catch his breath. He realized that he hadn’t really believed she’d get in the position he’d ordered - but she hadn’t put an end to the whole thing, either. This was a compromise position. It was up to him to enforce his will upon her. 

“Are those for me?” she asked, nodding at the feather and rope.

“You’re not in position. And you removed your stripes,” he said instead, hardening his voice and slapping the rope against his leg.

“What?” she said, looking down. She ran her fingers over the reddened stripes where the wax had been. “Oh, yes. Was that wrong?” Her voice was light, but there was a note of something else - not fear, because of course she had to know that he’d never hurt her, but an acknowledgment that he was in control. He could hand out … punishment. The word entered his mind as if for the first time. Did she want to be punished? Did he want to punish her? What would that feel like? This was a night of every imaginable first. 

“You removed my mark,” he said in his harshest tone, the angry Maquis captain once more. He took a few long strides to tower over her. “Unacceptable. Get on your hands and knees. You need to be spanked.”

Her mouth fell open.


	8. This had become a battle of wills

**Janeway**

She’d never been spanked, neither as a child nor as a sexually middle-of-the-road adult whose few partners had been gentle and respectful. _Never._ She’d never asked for any kind of sensual pain or considered the possibility. It wasn’t in her vocabulary. But with Chakotay brooding over her in his Maquis leathers, she allowed herself to wonder what it would feel like to be struck - playfully, consensually - by the finely made brown hands she’d often watched in her peripheral vision while sitting on the bridge. She couldn’t deny the warm rush of arousal. 

Her kneejerk response - “Are you out of your mind, Commander?” - seemed out of place in the context of their game, and she was definitely enjoying their game. But if she let him spank her, would she ever be able to stand in front of him on the bridge without both their minds going back to this moment?

She breathed in the heady scent of leather. She’d always loved him in these clothes, from the moment he’d beamed onto her ship. She’d like him better out of them, but the smell struck her like an aphrodisiac as she studied his stern face. He was inscrutable, betraying no twinkle or dimple to make a joke of this. She thought he might start laughing at their farce, but he never broke character. It was the same kind face, though, the same tattoo, a man she’d follow into a firefight without hesitation. Plus there was that phrase he’d used - ‘it’s my turn’ - with its suggestion that soon it would be hers. What wouldn’t she do then? An image of him spread eagled on the bed, buttocks bared to her open palm, gave her fresh resolve. She’d get her own back later.

“Yes, Chakotay,” she said, holding his gaze. His sharp intake of breath told her that he hadn’t expected her to agree. She lifted her mouth for her reward. He looked at her lips, but put his mouth to her neck instead, teeth scraping, sucking, attacking her skin until she knew he’d left a mark, then drew back, waiting for her to obey.

Was she really going to do this? Neither of them seemed sure. It was a game of chicken, she realized - and she’d never been one to flinch. 

She swallowed and lowered to her knees, her face coming level with his belt, then turned to drop to her hands, exposing her back to him. He reached down and ran a finger from the nape of her neck to the tip of her tailbone, slipping between her cheeks to dip for a second into the wetness below, provoking a full body shiver. He straightened and from the table behind him, pulled over a wooden chair. He sat, feet beneath her. Strong arms pulled her onto his lap. She was facing the floor, sprawled across his legs, feeling lopsided and off balance until he wrapped an arm across her back to hold her tight against him. 

Before she could steady herself, the first smack landed solidly on her right cheek, met with corresponding heat between her legs. The slap was firm but not vicious. There’d be a handmark on her pale skin that would fade quickly. She was glad he couldn’t see the shame that burned her face. When he mentioned spanking, she thought it might be mildly stimulating, but she hadn’t dreamed that it would excite her with the same breathtaking force as penetration. _This_ \- she wanted more of this.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low, ordinary Chakotay voice that told her he’d stop if she wanted him to. She considered it, but she wanted that feeling again. That rush.

“Yes,” she said, gasping because her chest was compressed against him and she was suddenly painfully aroused. “Harder. Don’t stop.”

He smacked the other cheek, hard, the blow reaching her throbbing core as powerfully as if he’d thrust his hand inside her. He paused again, giving her a chance to protest, but she shifted forward to display her bottom more prominently and grabbed the chair rung for support, aching for more. She’d never felt anything like this intense pleasure triggered by pain. He began to spank her rhythmically, listening between slaps for her to call an end to it, but instead of stop she heard herself saying yes, harder, more, rocking against him, rubbing breasts and groin against his legs while his hand tenderized her backside until she thought she’d come from this alone.

**Chakotay**

He was stunned to hear her _yes._ When he threatened to spank her, he meant it as a dare, an outrageous suggestion she’d veto instantly, putting them back on more even ground. Her scandalous _yes_ lit him on fire, undoing the minutes he’d spent calming himself outdoors. He wanted to consume her all at once, so instead of kissing her, he feasted on her neck, leaving a ragged mark only the dermal regenerator would undo. Then - oh spirits - she did as he’d said and got on her hands and knees. Although she was obeying his command, it was as if she’d gotten the upper hand somehow and was forcing him to do something he’d never intended.

She was daring him to finish what he’d started. This had become a battle of wills. _Oh Kathryn,_ he thought as he traced the curve of her spine, the rich scent of her sex wafting to him. _You’ve dared the wrong man._

When he’d secured her on his lap, still expecting her to call this off, he thought about what kind of spank to give her. There’d only be one, of course. He’d slap her bottom symbolically and that would be it. It should be firm, enough to leave the outline of his hand on her skin, nothing more. But rather than rousing indignation, the first blow plainly excited her. He couldn’t believe the words he was hearing, or the way she moved to maximize her pleasure. He was shocked at how enjoyable spanking her was. He’d never done anything like this before. He nearly came himself from the illicit, carnal jolt of hearing her sensual moans as he pounded her with his open hand.

He saw the sheen on her back, heard her shortened breath and excited cries, and realized how close she was. Before she could climax, he slid her gently back to the rug on her side, her bottom a red mass of his handprints. 

She lay limp, sprawled on her side, her breath coming hard. He leaned over to brush her hair from her face.

“I’ve never - ” she said, working to control her breathing, “done anything like that. Please, Chakotay - I need you.” She ran a hand up his leg, eyes hooded with lust, but he stopped her.

“Stand up. Let me see your bottom,” he said. 

“Yes, Chakotay,” she said, as if the words came automatically now.

She got to her feet and turned her back to show him angry, raised red prints that looked worse at this angle. He kissed each cheek. What had he done? He was glad she couldn’t see. He took a tube of aloe vera gel from his pocket, squeezed a thick blob onto his fingers, and applied it to her skin, relieved to watch the redness subside. After an initial tremor, she moved a little closer, bent over and rested her hands on her knees, making it easier to cover her bottom with healing gel but also displaying her anus and wet vulva at close range. 

When he’d finished with the gel - he’d keep the dermal regenerator for later - he wanted to touch her more intimately, but in a way that would challenge her the way she’d managed to challenge him with the spanking. He put his tongue to the delicate pink skin near her anus and drew a wide circle around it. She inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away, so he coated his finger in gel and inserted just the tip into the tight, pink opening, steadying her with his other hand on her hip.

“Oh!” she said, clenching her bottom, then relaxing. He waited to see what she’d do. Slowly her hips began to grind, moving her up and down his finger until it was embedded up to his hand. She withdrew, pushed back again, and began to ride his finger in and out with a low, animal moan, growing more intense. Again, as soon as she gave signs of beginning to climax, he took his hands off her. She straightened and faced him with a look of near surprise in her eyes, hair falling into her face, looking wild and dangerous. She licked her lips, breasts pink from arousal and the wax marks.

“I need you to fuck me, Chakotay,” she said. He got up from the chair, so close he brushed her nipples as he rose.

“Patience, Kathryn.” He opened the tube and applied gel to the wax marks, stroking his fingers in long lines across her breasts. She shut her eyes and let him work. When he was done, he said, “Lie down on the sofa and stretch your arms above your head. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave him a murderous look. “Yes, Chakotay.”

To reward her, he put the feather between her legs and slowly drew the length of it out across her clitoris. She shook, shut her eyes, and moaned for as long as it touched her. When he’d finished, she lay down as instructed. He went to the chiller and took out a tub of ice. First, his back to her, he slid a handful into his briefs to relieve the erection that had returned with a vengeance. Then he went to the end of the sofa and slung a few twists of rope to capture Kathryn’s wrists in a snug slipknot.


	9. You will definitely have to beg

**Janeway**

She didn’t know herself. First her feral reaction to the spanking, then the way she’d stimulated herself against his finger, so desperate for sexual release that she’d forgotten where she was, who she was … and who was with her. Turning around to find Chakotay there brought her back to the original plan with a start. What was all this madness? This was supposed to be a simple, satisfying fuck, after which he’d hike away and leave her to a few good books. How had she let it get this out of hand? 

His order to lie down was a move in the right direction. The rope slipping around her wrists startled her, but not as much as it would have if she hadn’t seen him walk in with it as a kind of threat - or promise. She’d been tied up by captors - the Kazon came to mind - but never during sex. Involuntary fear and anger hormones mingled with the sex hormones saturating her nervous system to create a potent drug, blurring and heightening her senses as she listened to him rummage in the chiller. 

After hovering on the edge of a shattering orgasm for at least a half hour, she couldn’t take much more. Her senses were in overdrive. She could still taste the kiss he’d given her on the deck, spiced with wine and biryani. His smell, musky and warm, was everywhere, as was hers. She heard every move he made when he left her line of sight. And his slightest contact with her body threatened her with total loss of control. She was starting to feel unhinged, like the most innocent caress would make her scream.

“What are you doing?” she asked, twisting to see but making no real attempt to escape. Whatever he was planning to do to her, she wanted it fervently. He secured the rope to one of the legs of the sofa, leaving her extended and taut, but able to slip free whenever she chose, then stood back to admire the view. Her eyes fell on his tented erection and she smiled.

“Patience, remember,” he said, leaning over to sweep his tongue into her mouth. She kissed him with such passion that she felt him brace against the sofa to keep from falling into her. The power of his restrained need drew another strangled cry from the back of her throat when he pulled away and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to have to punish you again.”

“Anything, as long as you let me come.” The spanking, in retrospect, had been exquisite, and his treatment afterward better than any massage she’d ever had. She wondered what other punishments he might devise and how she might provoke them.

To her relief, he unfastened the front of his vest with slow, careful fingers, taking it off one arm at a time while she watched, painfully eager to see him naked. He hung the vest over the back of the chair and pulled his shirt off, exposing a firm, bronze chest. It might have been tighter in younger days, but it belonged to the man who’d been her rock for years. It was everything she wanted. The tremble that went through her entire body brought out his dimples.

“I want you to focus on touch, not sight,” he said, and bent to wrap his shirt around her eyes. 

“I want to watch you,” she said, squirming, but he wrapped the blindfold so that only a thin line of light reached her eyes. She became aware of a new element of danger in the game. He was taking her into uncharted waters, one by one depriving her of the senses she needed to navigate, forcing her to trust him more when she was already at her most vulnerable. It occurred to her that there was no one else in the galaxy she’d allow to put her in this position voluntarily - but because it was Chakotay, she was more turned on than afraid, ready to carry on doing whatever he proposed.

“Not yet.”

She heard him fish a piece of ice from the tub. Under his fingers it touched her mouth, her right nipple, then her left, drawing sharp, quick whimpers, then zigzagged across her belly, the melt running down her sides before he rubbed it through her pubic hair, adding to the moisture pooling in the V where her legs met. He nudged her legs open and drew the ice ever so slowly across her clitoris for a gratifying cry, then separated her labia with his fingers and penetrated her with the ice - only the ice. She moaned and thrashed.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t make me beg.”

The ice swished in the bucket again. He was reaching for another piece. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear this without losing her mind … or losing consciousness.

“You will definitely have to beg,” he said.

**Chakotay**

He slipped off his socks and sat on his bare heels to enjoy her abandon and the warmth of the fire on his bare back. She was spectacular in this state, licking her lips, chest heaving. She left her hands where he’d restrained them, wore his blindfold willingly, let him probe her body. He could do anything with her now, he thought. He considered the many ways he planned to take her and tease her over the course of the weekend. Already he was counting the hours, thinking how to squeeze a lifetime from these stolen moments. 

He let her breath calm before beginning at her toes with another piece of ice, teasing up both inner thighs, to place it where the first had already melted. She tossed her head back and forth and gritted her teeth.

“Fuck me, Chakotay. Please. What do you want me to say?”

“Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice,” he said, picking up another chunk of ice and holding it to her lips. She sucked water, lapping with her tongue, until he put his mouth where the ice had been and took another frantic kiss from her while holding the ice to her nipple. She was coming apart, shaking as she kissed him. He broke off to whisper in her ear. “From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.”

She rubbed her legs together and moved up and down on the sofa, trying to stimulate herself, but it was no use. She needed him. He grinned at the extraordinary scene - Kathryn naked and bound, mewing on the verge of a bone-cracking orgasm, with the power to release her in his hands alone. What to do next? Strip and sink into her, as everything from his waist down was screaming at him to do, or extend their play a little longer? It was too delicious - and he had yet to achieve his strategic goal. He would have to push her to the precipice to be sure of victory. 

On the low table beside the sofa was a bowl of Ablaran fruits, probably their equivalent of apples and oranges but alien to him. The centerpiece was a long, thick, purple fruit shaped a little like a zucchini or a perfect small eggplant, with a slight curve and a bumpy texture like a cucumber. He picked it up with both hands to examine it, testing the surface against his skin.

“Chakotay?” Kathryn asked. “Touch me, Chakotay. I want to taste you.” She tugged at the rope. 

“Wait a minute,” he said. 

“Yes, Chakotay.”

He took her nipple in his mouth, sucked until she went rigid all over, then popped it out.

“Don’t stop!” she said

“I give the orders,” he whispered in her ear. “Spread your legs.”


	10. Yes, Chakotay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Choose Your Own Adventure conclusion with two endings: sugary delight or devastating angst, depending on your personal preference. Merry Christmas!

**Janeway**

With a groan she bent her knees and let them drop apart. The ache there was intense, but she certainly wasn’t suffering. A smile played on her lips as she displayed herself blindly for him, expecting him to end her wait at last. She strained toward the sound of him murmuring something to the replicator, but he jiggled the ice tub so she couldn’t catch the words. With all his rustling around he must be naked by now. Any moment he’d be on her, filling her, or in her mouth. She didn’t care which.

Something touched her thigh near her knee, a blunt object that drew a slick trail up to her outer lips. That was wrong. She wanted to feel him and only him.

“What is that?” she asked, breathy. “I want you.”

“Just a little toy,” he said. “You’ll like it.” He nudged her opening with whatever it was, something wide enough to stretch her but not too big to slip inside. She moaned as the tip entered and tried to push herself down onto it, but he held it right at her entrance and refused her the shaft. “Hold still.”

“Yes, Chakotay.” His answering kiss was feather light, gentle - and directly on her clitoris. Her toes curled.

She shook as millimeter by millimeter he pushed the object into her until it could go no further, biting her lip hard enough that she nearly drew blood as it nudged against her cervix. She took a large breath, ready for him to pull it out and fuck her with it. She would come instantly. Instead, he stopped. 

She thought she might pass out at the agonizing stimulation of being stretched wide. A few seconds later his finger, slick with oil, penetrated her from behind to massage against the counterweight of the object he’d inserted, separated only by a thin membrane. Sweat dripped between her breasts as she keened at the mindblowing fullness in both openings, his finger stimulating nerve endings she’d scarcely felt before.

**Chakotay**

He had her on the very edge - ready, he hoped, to give in to any terms he named in exchange for the release only he could offer. He’d only get one chance and the odds were long against him. She hadn’t held out for years only to let him get the better of her with one hot evening. He was still, he reminded himself, in a deadly serious negotiation with Captain Kathryn Janeway - even if he had his finger up her ass and his tongue in her ear.

“Now, _beg,_ ” he said. She tilted her face toward his voice, her dewy cheek flushed pink, so close he could feel her breath on his neck. 

“Please - I’m begging you, Chakotay. Fuck me. Let me come.”

“Promise me anything.”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll obey me like this in your quarters aboard Voyager.”

The long silence that followed made him fear that he’d lost her entirely. Any moment, the outraged captain of Voyager would return to find him grossly sexually abusing her civilian counterpart. She’d demote him, put him off the ship in her mortification, leave him on Ablar II forever. He’d gone too far this time. 

**Ending 1**

**Janeway**

When his honeyed voice spoke these words in her ear, she was so far gone that she hardly remembered her own name. Aboard Voyager? Where was Voyager? In orbit somewhere under Tuvok’s steady hands, safe enough for her captain to take a well deserved break and … sleep with her first officer. She’d resolved her qualms about that before she’d proposed friendly fire, safe within strict parameters. 

Chakotay had her sacred parameters naked and begging for whatever he wanted them to be. Tonight was so far beyond what she’d imagined that there was no way she’d be able to beam up in three days and pretend it hadn’t happened - and if she couldn’t, neither could he. They’d shredded Starfleet protocols and the command structure. This might be her last chance to define her terms for what would replace them.

She sighed and smiled.

“Only when we’re alone. Strictly classified. It’s my turn next. And only if you fuck me _right this second._ ” 

He laughed and pressed his cheek to her shoulder, transmitting his relief through her skin. She slid a hand out of the slipknot and pushed aside the blindfold to see his face - his dear face - looking at her with love.

**Chakotay**

His relief was a tidal wave, sweeping away all the fear and tension that had consumed him a moment before.

“Only you, Kathryn, would answer with a counteroffer.” He slid her wrist back into the knot, letting her wonder for a second, then kissed the tip of her nose. “I accept.” 

He drew out his finger and the fruit and shucked his trousers and briefs while she watched with eyes that consumed him like a last meal.

“That’s more like it,” she said with a purr. He knelt on the other end of the sofa and lifted her feet to his shoulders to get the best angle while she rocked her bottom into position on his legs. As the tip of his penis dipped into her moisture like taking the first steps into a warm, scented, perfect bath, she asked, “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

She could, of course, slip free any time she wanted, and he was eager to feel her hands on him, but this was a sweet acknowledgment of the power she’d given over. She’d take it back one day - have him naked and begging or turned over her knee for a spanking, a prospect he looked forward to - but for now she was utterly his creature.

“Not until time for beam-out. We’ve barely gotten started,” he said, and plunged into her like a diver breaking the surface to reach air as she shouted her long-awaited ecstasy.

_“Yes, Chakotay! YES!”_

**Ending 2**

**Janeway**

When his honeyed voice spoke these words in her ear, she was so far gone that she hardly remembered her own name. _Aboard Voyager?_ Where was Voyager? In orbit somewhere under Tuvok’s steady hands, safe enough for her captain to take a well deserved break and … sleep with her first officer, planetside. It wasn’t exactly encouraged but there was precedent and no one had been court martialed. She’d resolved her qualms before she’d proposed friendly fire, safe within strict parameters. So what was he suggesting?

With difficulty, she tore her mind free of the urgent demands of her body. _Obey me like this in your quarters aboard Voyager_ \- that’s what he’d said. She sighed, pulled one hand out of the slipknot, and pulled up the blindfold to look him in the eye. 

“Chakotay. You know I can’t.”

He nodded. “I know. It was worth a try.” His hands pulled away from her, his head dropped and so did her heart. She’d told him she loved him. Didn’t that count for anything? Did it have to ruin tonight that she couldn’t let their friendly fire carry over to their on board relationship? She reached out her hand to smooth his hair, saddened once more to have hurt him when all she’d wanted was to feel once more the same deep connection they’d experienced on New Earth.

“Don’t sacrifice the present for a future that may never happen?” she said, evoking his words.

**Chakotay**

He’d known they were coming - there was no other answer she’d give - but her words still splashed down as if he’d turned the ice bucket over his head. _You know I can’t._ Yes. He knew. He’d known for years. But her unbending earlier - _you know I love you_ \- had made him hope like he hadn’t dared for a long time.

She was right: he knew things. He knew that she loved him. He knew that she wouldn’t - not couldn’t but wouldn’t, functionally the same - have an intimate relationship with him on board. And he knew that he couldn’t go on with this night of passion knowing that it would end in stony faces on the bridge as they pretended it had never happened. For all his dominant bravado, he wasn’t strong enough. 

“I’m sorry, Kathryn,” he said, head lowered. “I wanted so much to do this, but I can’t be your friendly fire.” Tears were coming and he didn’t want her to see them. This wasn’t her fault. She was doing her damnedest, at the expense of every human need she had, to be the captain the whole crew needed. If she’d gone overboard on protocol and being a Starfleet crew, it was better than abandoning everything that kept them focused on home and reminded them who they were, out here where an ancient map would have said only ‘Here There Be Dragons’. He didn’t want to make it harder by showing her his pain.

She had his ridiculous fruit dildo in her hand as she freed herself from the rope and sat up. When he dared a glance, she was crying too.

“No, I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea.” 

He stood and bent over to take her face in his hands and press his forehead to hers through several breaths, willing himself to walk away and head out into the night for his vision quest. Of all the tough things he’d done in his life, who would believe that this was the hardest? What would the doe and his father have to say?

“Remember that I love you,” he said, then snatched up socks, shirt, vest, and shoes in a frenzy to get outside without allowing himself a backward glance. 

As he hurried to dress, he heard through the open window a muffled sob and the words ... _Yes, Chakotay._ Yes what? Yes she’d remember? Yes she loved him? Yes she’d give in and be with him on board? No - no more speculation, he told himself. No more what if. That way lay madness. _Enough._

He shouldered his pack, attached his wrist light and picked out the trail he’d intended to take after dinner. The hour’s hike to his first campsite would give him time to cool down, physically and mentally. The vision quest would help him move on. It was fortunate they’d both have a few days to recover from what had just happened - to figure out how to be people who knew it could never, ever happen again. 

END


End file.
